Into Your Arms Read online

  “We’ll see. I’m going to have cheer, and I can’t miss anything,” I say and her face falls.

  “My parents are all set to have you. They won’t shut up about it.” Way to twist the knife, Mia. I know her parents miss me, and I miss them. I still call them once or twice a week and put on my happy voice and tell them that everything is great and that I’m happy. I know they don’t believe me, but they don’t push either. Melissa still sends me letters, and I cherish every one of them.

  “I’m not saying no, it’s just . . . we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now I just need to get through today and tomorrow and the next day.” She lets out a long breath.

  “I’m still worried about you. If you ever need me to get on a plane and come get you, I will. And I’ll come with you to find your birth mom. You know I will. I love you, and I want you to have the world.” I’m getting teary again.

  “I know and I love you too. I want you to have the world.”

  * * *

  I’m a bit of a wreck after I talk to Mia, and I don’t want to sit in my apartment alone. But I don’t want to go to the library or do anything else. I just want . . . I don’t know what I want, but I get in my car and then I find myself at Rhett’s apartment complex. Probably should have called, but I didn’t know until I got in my car that this was my destination.

  The lights are on in his place and his truck is here, so he’s got to be home. I walk up the stairs and knock on his door. I take a breath and he opens the door, surprised to see me.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I open my mouth to answer him, but I just shrug instead.

  “I’m not really sure.”

  I walk in and flop on the couch. The TV is on and he’s watching a popular show with dragons and sword fights and lots of beheading. He’s even got snacks and everything. Party for one. Reaching for a handful of popcorn, I lean back on his couch. I really do love how comfortable it is. Better than mine.

  “You okay?” he asks, sitting next to me and grabbing the bowl of popcorn to set between us.

  “Sure,” I say, my eyes on the screen.

  “Not to be an asshole, but your eyes are a little red and puffy.” That’s an understatement. I am one of the ugliest criers you’ll ever see. It takes forever for my face to go back to normal after I cry. I hate it. My skin gets all blotchy and my eyes puff up and my eyeballs get all red. Gross.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, shoving more popcorn into my mouth.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Now I turn my head toward him and give him a look. He raises his eyebrows.

  “Noted. Carry on.” And he turns his head back to the screen and doesn’t say another thing about it.

  Oh. That’s nice. I’m not used to people just dropping something like that. I hope he’s not luring me into a false sense of security and then going to try and weasel it out of me.

  He doesn’t. The only thing he asks me is if I want to watch anything else, and I say I don’t. He asks if I want more popcorn and I say I do, so he makes some. Rhett also offers me a beer, and I take him up on it. Just one.

  There’s a marathon of the show, so I stay to watch three episodes, until it’s pretty late, but he doesn’t mention anything about me leaving. I sip my beer and pull down the blanket again, wrapping myself up.

  It smells like him, and I despise how much I like it. I’ve been here less than a dozen times, and I already feel completely comfortable. Maybe it’s because Rhett sees me at my absolute worst in the mornings when we run, or when we’ve had a long practice and I’m drenched in sweat and makeup free.

  I never worry about impressing Rhett. Maybe I should. Oops. Too late now.

  “You wanna stay?” he says, turning his head.

  “No, I’m fine. I just needed to get out of the house and then I found myself here. I needed to be alone. With someone.” That makes absolutely no sense, but he nods as if it does.

  “I get that. You can come here to be alone with me anytime you want. My door is always open to you. There’s a spare key under the mat if you need it.” Okay, now this is getting weird. I don’t like that I now know where to find his spare key. It’s too intimate. Too close.

  Time to go. Definitely.

  I push myself to my feet and groan. I’m so full of snacks and a little sleepy from the beer. I’m kind of a lightweight. Not kind of. I am. One drink and I’m basically sliding onto the floor.

  “Sure, whatever,” I say, and then realize I’m being kind of a bitch. “Thanks.” He nods once.

  “You’re welcome, Freya.” I ignore the feeling I get when he says my name and head out the door.

  * * *

  “Okay, this is not working,” Coach says, completely frustrated. I share that feeling. She’s trying to up the difficulty on our Swedish Falls pyramid, but it’s not happening. The timing has to be absolutely perfect, or the whole thing turns into a nightmare.

  It’s one of my favorite stunts because it’s three levels of people, so the height is awesome. Well, it can be awesome when everyone has their shit together, which isn’t happening. I want to shout and scream that it isn’t that hard, but that’s not going to get anything done. This is one of those practices where I’m really missing my old squad. Since I have a lot of experience, I’m in the middle for the entire thing and I have the most difficult tasks of being tossed, spinning, and landing in the arms of the girls on the second level and making it look effortless. One of them is Tobi, and she tries to salvage the stunt, but when one base’s timing is off, the entire thing collapses and looks like a mess. I end up falling more than I end up actually flying.

  “That sucked,” Rhett says when Coach decides to leave the pyramid for the day and come back to it tomorrow. I’m sore and grumpy, and don’t have a lot of hope that it’s ever going to come together. It’s just a skill that some of our squad isn’t at the right level for. But Coach is reaching for the stars, so we’re going to keep going until we nail the stunt or end up in the hospital. Whichever comes first.

  “Yeah, and we have to get that if we have any chance at a bid to Nationals,” I say with a sigh as I sling my bag over my shoulder. It’s definitely on the list of things we have to hit, along with tumbling passes, jumps, partner stunts, and basket tosses. All in less than three minutes.

  My old squad had been going to (and winning at) Nationals for decades. The MSU squad has never even tried. In order to get a chance to compete at Nationals, our squad has to submit a video in the winter of us performing our routine and also leading a crowd cheer. I always loved when we made our submission videos, but this year I’m not looking forward to it. Because I just don’t think it’s going to happen. I know what it takes and we are SO not there yet. Granted, we’re not in the same division as my Texas squad, but still.

  “Is it weird that I’m scared about that?” Rhett says as we walk out together. “I mean, cheering at the games is one thing, but being judged is something entirely different. I hope I don’t fuck things up and then I’m the one who screwed us out of going to Nationals.” I scoff at him.

  “That’s not how it works. We’ll be fine. You’re not the one to worry about, trust me. You’re a great cheerleader, Rhett. You really are.” He beams at me, and his smile is so cute that my heart does two backflips.

  “Thanks. That really means a lot, Freya.” And another backflip. I just can’t help it. But my tentative friendship with Rhett is working out. For the most part? I still want to do things like bite his earlobe or scratch his back or lick his tattoos, but I can totally push those thoughts aside and focus.

  Kind of.

  Lately I’ve been having all kinds of, ah, dreams of a naked nature, and when I wake up in the morning, I’m so turned on that it’s physically painful. There’s absolutely nothing I can do about that, apart from not sleeping, so I just . . . do my best and try not to have lusty thoughts about Rhett before bed. Easier said than done.

  “You coming over for dinner?” he asks. He’s always the one who asks
me to come over and I figure if I’m driving him up a wall or he doesn’t want to feed me, he’d probably stop inviting me, so I agree, but say that I’m bringing salad stuff this time. I know he works, but college is fucking expensive.

  I tell him that I need to shower and then I’ll come over. We wave goodbye and I’m throwing my gym bag in the backseat of my car when Tobi sidles up next to me.

  “So. Having dinner at his house more than a few times a week? Having breakfast. Hanging out. Looks like you’ve got yourself a boyfriend to me.” I make a face at her.

  “Guys and girls can be friends without having sex with one another, Tobi.” She laughs.

  “Sure they can, but not when there is as much sexual tension as there is between the two of you. When I spot for you, I’m afraid that I’m going to get burned by it.” Rolling my eyes, I get in my car.

  “Bye, Tobi, I’ll see you tomorrow!” I shut the door before she can say anything else. I don’t like people bugging me about Rhett. We’ve gotten more than a few appraising looks at practice and I’ve heard whispers, which I have ignored. What I do and don’t do with Rhett is no one’s business. They can kiss my round ass.

  I rush home and am just about to hop in the shower when I get a call from my parents. After a few seconds of staring at the phone, I let it go to voicemail.

  They must know why I’m here. They were the ones who had the paperwork stashed away. What were the chances that I’d up and randomly move to the same state they adopted me from? And they never said a word about it. I didn’t tell them and we never talked about it. I’m pretty sure they’ve probably forgotten that I exist for the most part.

  It doesn’t matter. They were never my family. Things never felt right with them and I always wondered why. I thought it was because I wasn’t smart enough, or quiet enough, or just right enough. Well, right for them.

  I push thoughts of my parents aside and get in the shower so I can go see Rhett. I completely and totally ignore the little flutters in my stomach that I get when I think about spending time with him. He’s just Rhett. Just . . .

  Amazing. Attractive. Annoying.

  I turn on the radio and sing along with a crappy pop song, as if that will make me forget about Rhett. I’ve stopped bothering to knock when I come here, so I walk in to find him whistling in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something.

  “How do you feel about wonton soup?” he asks.

  “Love it,” I say, dropping the bag full of salad fixings. I’ve loved everything he’s made. It’s too bad he can’t help kids and be a chef at the same time, but the former is much more important. He makes me feel like a bad human sometimes. That I should be doing more to help the world.

  “What do you want to watch tonight? They added a bunch of new movies on Netflix if you wanna go check.” Sitting on Rhett’s couch and just vegging out is my new favorite thing. It’s doing nothing, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like exactly what I need.

  “Sure, after I make the best salad you’ve ever eaten.” I pull out a bag of organic lettuce. I spent a massive amount of money on the vegetables in this bag, so he better appreciate it.

  “Oh, really? I’m looking forward to that. What makes it so special?” he asks as I pull out a cutting board and a knife and a big bowl.

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” I know I’m being flirty with him, but I’m hormonal and I can’t help it. Sometimes I slip. So sue me.

  “Did you bring croutons? You can’t have an amazing salad without croutons,” he says, dropping the handmade wontons in the pot of broth.

  “What am I, some kind of amateur?” I hold up the bag of fancy croutons, and he gives me a thumbs up. We lapse into silence as I chop and he minds the soup.

  “So here’s a question for you,” he says.

  “Uh-huh,” I say as I carefully chop a red pepper so the bits are uniform. Okay, so I’m not a good cook. I usually buy my salads pre-made because I’m lazy. I guess I just wanted to impress Rhett. He’s so good at everything that it’s infuriating, and it’s going to give me a complex.

  “What do you think about maybe doing something with me this weekend? Outside. Or at least in a different location than my apartment.” I stop chopping. I agreed to this, but so far, I’ve been so cozy and safe at his apartment since there’s no one here to stare at us, or wonder if we’re a couple. I knew he was going to bring this up at some point, but I’d been kind of hoping it would be a while.

  “That depends. What is it?”

  He chuckles and the sound goes right to my lady parts. Rhett has to stop laughing in my presence. It makes things difficult.

  “I’m not sure yet. But I have some ideas.” He grins at me, and I swallow a whimper. I can’t handle him when he looks like that. What is wrong with me tonight?

  Probably that especially vivid dream that I had about him that woke me up several times and ended in me having to get myself off a few times before going running, which was just a joy.

  “I don’t like your ideas, Rhett Miller. Your ideas are trouble.” His smile gets even more smirky, and I have to turn away. Is it warm in here?

  Concentrating on my salad. Focusing on my salad. Gotta chop the carrots. Chopping carrots . . .

  “You’re going to cut yourself,” his voice says right behind me. I bet if I back up, I’m going to bang right into him.

  Lol, bang.

  Get a grip, Freya.

  I close my eyes and take a breath.

  And then he reaches around me to position my hand on the carrot, curling my fingers in.

  “See? Then you have less of a chance of cutting yourself.” His voice buzzes in my ear, and I’m having trouble swallowing. My entire body is vibrating like a tuning fork and if I don’t get out of here right the fuck now, I’m probably going to melt into a puddle on the floor.

  My hand decides to drop the knife, and I press my palms on the counter. Rhett hasn’t moved, and he’s still sort of breathing in my ear. He’s so close that I can feel him surrounding me, and I can’t even remember the reasons I’m not supposed to be enjoying this.

  Fuck, I want him.

  I’ve been a complete idiot to deny it this long. But standing here with him in his kitchen, I’m just . . .

  Fuck.

  After one more breath, I slowly rotate within the circle of his arms. I’ve been touched and held by Rhett more times than I can count, but this is entirely different.

  When did he get so tall? He overwhelms me, but not in a bad way. I want him to. I’d like to get lost in him for a while. Just a little while. Would that be so bad?

  I almost have to break my neck to meet his eyes. He’s staring down at me in a way that turns me on even more. For real, if something doesn’t happen ASAP, I’m probably going to die. Is that possible?

  A weird little sound escapes my mouth and that’s what does it. He dives down, I press up, and somehow we meet in the middle. I have to bend back and his hands come to clasp my face to bring me closer. It’s like the first kiss, only so. Much. Better. His face is scratchy, but in a good way. I can only imagine how it would feel on other areas of my body. This time, he doesn’t hesitate. Not even a little bit. I would barely call that thing we did that one time a kiss. Because this is just . . . more.

  Well, fucking hell. Rhett Miller is good at everything. Including kissing. Things go from tentative and somewhat sweet to hot and demanding in about three seconds. Has he been doing tongue exercises? Because he’s also incredible at that. My fingers grip his shirt so hard I’m afraid I’ll tear it, but that’s sort of low on my list of priorities right now. He moves me around to a clear space of counter and then I’m being lifted, but it’s completely different than at practice.

  My ass meets the counter, and I wrap my legs around him. He has to bend even more to kiss me, but I don’t hear him complaining. My hands are frantic, wanting to touch all of him everywhere at once, as if they never have.

  It’s exciting, this new kind of touch. Rhett licks the inside of
my mouth and breaks the kiss.

  “I want you,” he says. “If you don’t want me, then you need to tell me right now.”

  I open my mouth and then close it a few times. I can’t think of words right now. All I know is that if he doesn’t fuck me in the next few minutes, I will not survive.

  “Fuck me,” I say, at last. There. That’s good enough. Succinct. Get’s the point across.

  He licks his lips and closes his eyes briefly.

  “If you say so.” And then I’m being picked up again and carried to his bedroom. I’ve been in his apartment quite a few times, but this is a place that, until now, has remained a mystery.

  I don’t exactly get a chance to take a tour before he tosses me on the bed. I flop and almost laugh, but there’s really nothing funny about what’s happening.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he says, hands braced next to me.

  “Shut up and come here,” I say, reaching for him. Rhett is gentle, as if he’s worried about crushing me. Little does he know I’d be quite pleased to be crushed by him. Totally worth it.

  Neither of us is naked, and that is a problem.

  “Take your clothes off,” I say into his mouth as we kiss.

  “Demanding,” he says, smiling. I nip at his bottom lip.

  “You know it,” I say as he sits up and starts to strip his shirt off. I’ve seen him almost completely naked, but it’s like the first time. One of these days, I’m going to get a chance to inspect every inch of his tattoos. Tonight is not that night.

  I rake my hands down his skin, and he makes a soft growling noise. His chest is also covered in light hair, and I’m a big fan of that too.

  I’m ready to get down to business before I can second guess myself when he reaches down with one and hand and cups my cheek.